


And They Seem Not to Break

by rivlee



Series: No Dominion [12]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-09 12:56:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivlee/pseuds/rivlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>...though once they are bowed</i>. Duro and Elill among the birches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And They Seem Not to Break

**Author's Note:**

> The title/line _And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed_ is from Robert Frost's _Birches_. Thanks to lechatnoir for reading through the first draft.

The lands east of the Rhine often had a lingering winter. Even as spring came with the possibility of blossoming trees and grass for the sheep and cattle to graze, a few winter storms would still freeze the ground, and drive everyone back inside the sturdy walls of wooden huts. The ground had started to thaw with more hours of sunlight, and progress was finally being made on the structures that would become Agron and Nasir, and Duro and Elill’s farms. Duro was excited to help cut the trees and form the wood that would become the slats of his and Elill’s home. He would not be sad to see the days of spring finally give way to warm summer. Duro would always be a child of the woods and the water; to be forced inside walls for hours on end still left him uneasy. He wouldn’t have been able to endure the winter, with all its boredom, if it hadn’t been for beloved family and friends at his side. 

He’d already reveled in today’s warmth, having joined Elill and the others at the river bed for a morning wash. They had a long day of sawing and sanding ahead. Duro would be brushing sawdust out of Elill’s hair for weeks to come, a task that he’d already grown to love.

Elill sat perfectly still as Duro took the time to pull and plait the hair away from his face. The ties could only do so much when they were working so he secured some of the larger sections with hairpins. Duro had designed them to look like silver and bronze twigs; seeing the glint of them in Elill’s hair always brought a smile to his face. It was an honor, to see him wear them with such pride. Duro was starting to gain a reputation for his craftsmanship based largely on Elill’s display of his work. Other clans were starting to send members for orders and requests; it felt good to develop a skill that didn’t involve death.

The peaceful morning was broken when a long shadow that could only be cast by one man fell over them. 

“Uncle,” Duro said, not bothering to remove his eyes from their task. 

He slapped the back of Duro’s head. “Respect is still a lesson you must learn.”

Duro tugged on Elill’s hair when he spied his shoulders shaking in laughter; fucking traitor of a man.

“I am focused on my task,” Duro argued. “Is that not something you always desire I learn?”

Erhard leaned over Elill’s shoulder. “Are you sure you want this one?” he asked. “There must be a better man we can find for you. Perhaps in one of the other clans?”

Elill laughed. “Gratitude, Erhard, but I and my heart are more than content.”

Duro leaned forward and kissed the top of Elill’s head in thanks. He caught the proud smile on Erhard’s face as he watched the two of them.

“To be so young and foolish again,” he said as he shook his head. “Later I will relive my own memories, now I must deliver message. No work on the hut for you two today. Freya requests you.”

In that moment, Duro remembered just how stabbing true fear felt. He pressed a hand to his side as a phantom pain emerged. 

“Why?” Duro asked.

Erhard frowned. “Do not question the reason of your elders in this, Duro. If Freya requests you, you meet her with respect.” He pointed to Elill. “Besides, she dotes on your shield-mate. It’s not as if she’d punish you in front of him, and she did request both of you.”

Duro was uncertain about the punishment part, but Elill at his side _would_ mean a more pleasant Freya.

*************************

Freya’s hut was one of the largest and most impressive in the closest three settlements. It was a testament to her age and power. She’d outlived six chieftains and stood as the longest-serving of the Elders. She’d terrified Duro as a child; she terrified him even more now. 

Of course she was Elill’s closest friend in the clan who wasn’t tied to him by blood. She embraced Elill like a favored son, complimenting his hair and clothes; she glared at Duro from over Elill’s shoulder. She patted Elill’s arm one more time before she let him go and took her place in a chair by the hearth. 

She beckoned them forward and they both kneeled by her chair.

“I would have words with you, boy,” she said, clearly addressing Duro. “Gerlind informs me neither you nor your brother have taken your shield-mates to the birch grove.”

Of course he hadn’t. The birch grove was reserved for newly bonded couples looking to produce a child. Duro frowned. “Yes, I did not see the need.”

Freya glared at him. “You know all newly joined couples go there to seek the gods’ blessings.”

“For a child,” Duro said. He patted his belly. “Even with the gods will it could not happen, Freya, and it would’ve by now. Trust me on this.” 

“Such blasphemy,” she chastised. She boxed Duro’s ear. “It is an honorable symbolic gesture and if you respect your shield-mate you will take him to the grove and seek the gods' approval.”

“Should Agron not go first? He is the eldest son.” And the first who should always be shoved towards the ceremonial wolves in Duro’s opinion. Ever since their return, Duro had been more firmly pulled under the Elder Council’s thumb than Agron. It wasn’t fucking _fair_. Duro knew _why_ they did it; Agron would be expected to head his own clan one day, to be highly lauded leader among a group of people, but Duro would be here, with Elill at his side, both taking seats on the Elder Council.

Freya looked displeased at Duro’s tone; he wasn’t quick enough to duck out of the way of her slap. “Elill speaks with his gods and will have a better chance pleading on your behalf than your brother. If you recall, he curses them with every breath.”

Elill grasped Duro’s hand before he could further protest. “I do not mind, Duro. You have participated in many of my rituals without complaint. It is time I honored one of yours.”

Freya nodded in approval. “At least one of you has sense.” She shoved a basket at them. “I’ve prepared a meal for you. Take one of the furs in case it gets cold.”

“We could’ve declined,” Duro said, half-impressed and half-insulted.

“Never,” Freya informed him.

Any scathing reply was quickly buried by the pleased smiled Duro saw spread across Elill’s face. 

“The gods chose well for you,” Freya said. She clapped her hands. “Now off with you two. Pay respect and raise joyful voices to the skies.”

*************************

“Why trees?” Elill asked. 

He’d been quiet so far on the walk out to the grove. There were still some stubborn patches of snow from late-spring storms dotting their path, and Elill had kept to his own mind as he concentrated on a steady footing over slick ground. 

“We cannot all seek worship in stone walls,” Duro teased.

“You seek nothing within stone walls,” Elill said. “All of you despise confinement.”

“Does that bother you?” Duro asked. 

He still worried during those dark times when the spiked fingers of doubt attacked his heart, that Elill would find him, his clan, and his home, wanting. Elill himself never gave Duro cause to worry; each day was filled with his excited eyes as he learned more of their history, their language, and their healing techniques. He was voracious in his pursuit of knowledge. Duro’s doubt was caused by the others, those who had known him since he was a babe, who took great pains to share tales of his youth all the while painting him as a complete fool. Duro did not deny he’d spent many years causing the chief mischief among his own clan, and that of his uncle; he did dislike that so many seemed unable to sense the change in him. 

Duro was not the boy who once set the chickens free or chased the sheep out of the pasture. Part of that spirit would always remain within him, but he had stood at the threshold of death more times in the past five years than any should, and he had not come out unchanged.

Elill stopped and cupped Duro’s face. “I have more concern for the thoughts which weigh you down. A darkness has come over you since we left our bedroll.”

Duro sighed, giving in to defeat, because Elill could always read him. “They will always see me as a child.”

“You have a youthful heart,” Elill agreed. “It is easier for them to see nothing but the vitality in your smile, the mischievous curl of your lips, than to think too long of the darkness that lurks in your eyes. It is easier for _them_ to remember you as nothing but the boy who once brought a wolf home as a pet. None like to dwell on what you, Agron, all of us have been through. Even among a people who value stories and histories, only some of those are welcomed to become part of the legends.” 

“And what of our tales would you add to the legends?” Duro asked. On the celebration of Elill, Nasir, and Iodocus’ first year with the clan they’d be asked to contribute a tale. Duro was curious which story each would pick.

“Training with Oenomaus would become a popular tale, I am sure. Or that time you, Gannicus, and Sanus drank half our supply of wine and decided to bare your asses to half a legion before battle’s start.”

“That was a strategic diversion,” Duro said. It _was_ , despite what all the others thought. Duro was the only one still standing who knew the truth though, so if it went down as an act born of camaraderie and drink, he could live with that. It would be fitting tribute to the memories of both men.

Elill laughed and teasingly leaned in, lips barely a hairsbreadth from Duro’s own. “Though I think Freya would care more for the look upon your face the first time I was called your shield-mate. I thought you almost for the Underworld again.”

“Lugo and that mouth of his,” Duro grumbled. He brushed his fingers against Elill’s wrist. “I never wanted you to lack choice, even if all the rest assumed us bound in the ways of my kin.”

“Little did I know the gifts to come once Donar officiated it,” Elill muttered.

Duro tried not to laugh, but it was a struggle, recalling Elill’s face when Lugo and Saxa barged into their tent with a boar, for the celebration feast. Spartacus and Mira had been more practical, with finding them new blankets and cloaks. Agron had gone with new swords, the best he had found in all the raids, as was tradition for the family. Duro had done the same for Agron and Nasir, though in their case, a whole crowd was not gathered outside their tent waiting to give word or small trinket.

Duro still felt Mira’s hand behind all of that; he wouldn’t be surprised if she led a whole procession to the door once their home was completed. He both feared and anticipated the day when Gerlind met Mira. 

Duro leaned up and nuzzled Elill’s nose with his own, before standing back and leading the way on. It would be better to do this with warm sun still at their back, rather than the fading light and cold wind that would come. 

******************

They stood in the center path of a circular copse of birch trees. There was no other people out this far, save the guardians of the woods, though the elder trees felt like sentries of a different kind, protecting all those who came to this place to make solemn vow. 

Elill’s fingers shook as they rested on the clasp of Duro’s cloak. He had spent years performing sacred rituals that involved everything from sorrowful songs to performances of religious ecstasy helped along by the power of wine and hallucinogenic herbs. Duro doubted a few _trees_ were enough to make him pause.

“Your hands tremble. Do you fear a performance?” he teased.

Elill regarded him with bored eyes, though the slight twitch around his nose gave proof of his buried laughter. His fingers curled around the metal of the clasp and easily undid the latch. He was deliberate in removing the cloth from Duro’s shoulders, taking the time to properly fold it before placing it at their feet. He did the same to his own before standing and using his considerable height to tower over Duro.

“If I ever were to complete a full performance for you, like the ones done for Cybele come the spring, you would faint from the exertion.” He roughly pulled at Duro’s trousers and tugged him close, a rough hand dragged Duro’s head back by gripping at the curls near the nape of his neck. “I do not perform with you. It is something far more sacred.”

“Yes,” Duro panted out. He would always feel the strength go from him when Elill let free his far more primal side. And to think, years ago when half-dead, he though Elill a stoic man. 

Elill’s touch softened as he nuzzled Duro’s ear. “This is important, yes? Significant to your clan?”

Duro nodded, the rub of skin against skin distracting him. He gripped Elill’s hips hard as he took a moment to gather his thoughts and control himself. 

“It is the final step in a marriage bond; an act to secure future ties within the various clans.”

“Usually with a child,” Elill guessed.

Duro nodded. “The birch trees are believed to help; for shield-mates it is more symbolic.”

“Why did you not bring me here before?” It wasn’t an accusation; curiosity colored Elill’s words.

“Unlike my brother, I make no presumptions of another’s future path.”

“You are such a fool,” Elill softly whispered against Duro’s lips. “When will you believe that the only man I could ever chose, or ever want, is the one before me?”

Duro did not say he was used to a life, even an identity, as second-best. He’d never been such to Elill, who found value in all, but most especially Duro. It was amazing the twists and turns their gods and their Fates had put before them, to bring them together. 

“I know your words and heart to be true,” Duro swore. He was rewarded with the sweet, soft taste of Elill’s mouth before he stepped away. 

“How would your gods receive such an offering?” Elill asked as his hands dipped under Duro’s shirt. They traced Duro’s spine before sliding back to the front and skirting below the waistband of his trousers. “Have you lost voice?” he asked.

Duro bucked into the teasing hint of Elill’s fingertips brushing his skin. “It’s normally done on the grass, between the roots,” he said. “That’s what I’ve heard of the ceremonies.”

“You’ve never witnessed one? Or participated in one?”

Duro shook his head. “I never felt the stir of such a bond before.”

Elill smiled, far too pleased, as he easily undid the ties of Duro’s clothes. Duro shivered for a moment as the cool air flowed around his bare skin, but the approving look in Elill’s eyes warmed him as much as the fire that had started to kindle in his blood. Elill’s hands came to rest on Duro’s shoulders, and the slight pressure there was enough of a signal to make Duro eagerly drop to his knees. The wood filled with Elill’s laughter when Duro nuzzled his abdomen, pushing aside the simple clasps that held his robe closed. Underneath Elill wore only the the plain wool trousers like any of their clan. It was one sign of the changing world Elill had slotted himself into, where his past met his present. Duro would dwell on that later, for now his eyes were drawn to the tattoo on his hip and the golden rings through his nipples. Elill was always a breathtaking sight, be it under moonlight or in the darkened corners they called their own, but out here even the tree limbs seemed to bow closer to get a better look.

“Now whose hands tremble?” Elill asked. He kicked the trousers away and slid down to face Duro. Duro captured Elill’s mouth with his own in answer.

There were no spoken solemn vows to be made out here; the act itself would speak enough for the intent. Duro frowned when Elill pulled away again, only to make a nest out of their cloaks. Duro laid down on his stomach, resting his head on his arms, and waited. The air filled with the shuffling sound of hands digging through piles of fabric before the scent of perfumed oil reached Duro’s nose. It was from the supply Elill still used for his hair during ceremonies. It was the first sign Duro had that Freya must’ve informed Elill of this prior to summoning them. Elill never just carried the vial around for a normal day. 

He jumped and laughed at the kiss to the small of his back, the whispers of thick hair sliding over him as Elill moved. It pulled him away from mulling thoughts; he let the pleasure of Elill’s touch cloud his mind. The preparation itself was almost enough to cause Duro’s end; Elill always took joy in obliterating Duro’s attempts at restraint. 

“Ready?” Elill asked as he leaned over Duro’s back.

Duro couldn’t speak, lips already raw from the effort of holding back his moans, and simply nodded. There was much to be said for having a shield-mate who knew him so well. Elill could make this end quickly, if he was feeling generous, but Duro could feel the smile on his lips as he licked the droplets of sweat from Duro’s shoulders. This would be drawn-out, a long game of coming so close to the edge, before backing off, and starting all over again.

It felt like hours of that torture before Elill’s pace started to increase. Duro’s nails dug into the ground around him, scrapping against the roots of the birch trees as he lurched forward with each hard thrust of Elill’s hips. The smells of earth, sweat, and sex overwhelmed him as he tried to focus. It was too much. He did not realize the voice crying out so harshly was his own until Elill placed a hand over his mouth, trying to quiet the sound in the grove. 

“You will summon the guardians,” Elill said.

“Fuck the guardians,” Duro growled. He reached a hand up and tugged a fistful of Elill’s hair, bringing him down for a harsh kiss that tasted slightly of blood, and mostly of Duro’s own desperation. It was fitting tribute for his gods, who celebrated life and love as fervently as they did war and death.

Elill’s fingers dug in hard to Duro’s hips and he gave a surprised gasp into Duro’s mouth as he finished. Duro tried to keep him close, but the soft shaking of laughter told him that wouldn’t last. The warmth of Elill left his back and Duro started to shiver for other reasons as the breeze chilled the sweat pooling over his body. He barely had a moment before he was gently rolled onto his back and Elill’s mouth wrapped around his cock. It was enough of a shock to make Duro open his eyes. His fingers gripped the mass of hair, fingering the twig pins there that held it in place, as his eyes looked to the tree tops and the sun shining through. 

He could not imagine how the gods showed their approval of such a union, but the lack of sudden rain or snow was enough of a blessing for Duro. He grinned as he closed his eyes again, heart jumping for a completely different reason when Elill’s hands found and held his own, and thanked both of their gods for giving them each other.


End file.
